


At The Zoo - The Drag Races

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Series: Mardi Gras Trilogy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-02-29
Updated: 2000-02-29
Packaged: 2018-11-10 14:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11128977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Fraser helps Ray at a third Mardi Gras event and learns more things - this time about himself as well as RayThis story is a sequel toAt The Mall - Shop Yourself Stupid.





	At The Zoo - The Drag Races

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Mardi Gras Trilogy Part Three

 

 

Part Three of the trilogy to celebrate the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi  
Gras. The events described herein are real. Dedicated to the friends  
I have lost and who aren't here to see the parade this year.  
  
Rated PG  
  
At The Zoo - The Drag Races  
  
 _Something tells me it's all happening at the zoo  
I do believe it,  
I do believe it's true        At  
The Zoo - Simon and Garfunkel  
_  
  
On the third weekend the prospect of the day's events filled Fraser with  
reluctant pleasure. The trepidation of the two previous weekends was  
gone. After all, what was there to be scared of? Even if he was at  
the drag races. Races, Ray had told him, which had nothing to do with  
cars.  
  
The final event in the Gay Pride calendar was the Drag Races, held in  
the grounds of the Chicago Zoo. The Chicago Zoo very generously donated  
their premises and a percentage of the days takings. It was a full day  
event made up of a number of spectator sports, drag shows, comedy routines  
and a range of assorted games that Fraser did not understand. There  
were even special kids events, which initially surprised him. He recalled  
that at Fair Day many couples had brought their children and now it warmed  
him that they were included in the days festivities. As he glanced around  
the crowd he realised that he could have been at any family event on  
any weekend at the zoo.  
  
The zoo steadily filled with people and Fraser noted that amongst the  
mixed crowd of people sitting with he and Ray on the grass was a large  
percentage of men wearing dresses. The men who weren't wearing dresses  
wore all manner of garb from tiny lycra shorts to leather trousers to  
plain old jeans and t-shirts. Just like him.  
  
He glanced down at the faded blue jeans and golden yellow t-shirt he  
wore realising that he was, in fact, no different from the other men  
gathered in the picnic area of the zoo on a warm, sunny Sunday morning.  
Why then did he ever feel discomfort? Was he not comfortable with his  
own sexuality? He pondered that question as he cast his gaze around  
the seated crowd, finally coming to rest on his companion.  
  
Beside him, Ray seemed in his element, engaged in a lively debate about  
something with a woman they had just met who was decorated with the most  
amazing array of tattoos he had ever seen. Dressed in his usual low-slung  
jeans and a t-shirt, Ray, too, seemed just like everyone else in the  
crowd - totally comfortable and at home. He didn't even notice when  
his t-shirt rode up over his midsection, exposing a great slice of his  
smooth, firm stomach.  
  
Ray's t-shirt, and the symbol it bore, was a source of much speculation  
for Fraser. When Ray had picked him up that morning, he had been surprised  
to see his friend dressed in the snug-fitting t-shirt given to him at  
Gay Pride Fair Day. Now, watching him amongst these people, it confirmed  
what Fraser had begun to suspect for the past two weeks. And he was  
suddenly ashamed of his discomfort.  
  
It all made sense. Ray's choice to wear the bi-pride shirt, the fact  
that so many people at these events knew him, his obvious ease in this  
environment and finally, the intimate embrace he had been in with the  
Native American man at the Fair. Did that make him any different? Did  
it lessen the friendship they had developed? No. If anything, it heightened  
the respect Fraser felt for Ray and he was now deeply ashamed of his  
actions.  
  
"So what do you think, Fraser?" Ray asked, interrupting the  
other man's reverie.  
  
"About what, Ray?"  
  
Ray rolled his eyes in a 'weren't you listening?' motion. "Jazz  
here," he indicated the woman with whom he had been talking, "says  
that Mulder and Scully are doing it." He took a breath and waved  
his hand at Jazz. "But I say Mulder's doing his boss."  
  
"Who are Mulder and Scully?" Fraser asked, unfamiliar with  
the people and what they might be 'doing'.  
  
The woman named Jazz exploded in laughter and slapped Fraser's thigh.  
"Shit, man, don't you have a TV?"  
  
"No, I don't," he replied, still clueless. He looked imploringly  
at Ray, but before an answer was forthcoming a voice erupted from the  
stage area in front of them.  
  
"Hi boys and girls," a camp male voice greeted the crowd on  
the grass. "Thanks for coming out," he paused for effect and  
was rewarded with a titter through the crowd, "so early on a Sunday  
morning. We've got a load of fun things for you today. We've got some  
beautiful girls to sing for you with Pan Am's Space Waitress show later  
today. We've got face painting and donkey rides for the kids and for  
the adults there's the sack race, the handbag toss, the wet jock and  
wet t-shirt competitions and of course, the drag race and loads of other  
stuff. I hope you'll all enter as many events as possible. The registration  
tent is to the left of the stage and there's food over to the right,  
in the food section as well as several fund raising stalls scattered  
around the park. Remember all money raised is for AIDS research, so  
please dig deep, but most of all," he paused again before shouting,  
"don't forget to have a gay old time!"  
  
Surprised by the mix of events listed, Fraser leaned over and spoke to  
Ray. "Well, Ray, it seems there are lots of interesting events.  
Will you be taking part?"  
  
A mischievous gleam lit Ray's eyes. "Yeah, I think I will."  
He turned to Jazz and she nodded. "Back in a minute, Fraser."  
  
Fraser watched as the two new friends skipped off in the direction of  
the registration tent. Suddenly alone, he was sorry that he had not  
been permitted to bring Diefenbaker. He didn't know how long they would  
be gone, so he decided to take a look around some of the stalls there.  
Rising from his place on the grass, he wandered towards a row of stalls  
like the one he and Ray had set up on Fair Day, nodding greetings to  
several people as he passed.  
  
There were a wide variety of items for sale. He stopped in front of  
a leather goods stall, admiring a range of belts hanging from a rack.  
  
"Very fine work, Sir," he told the proprietor, a man he was  
now able to recognise as a 'bear'.  
  
"Looking for something in particular?"  
  
"No, just browsing," he said, turning slightly to inspect a  
range of items laid out on a table. He picked up a small brown wallet  
and turned it over in his hands. The price was reasonable. It was small  
and masculine and suited to the small American notes he was now forced  
to carry. "I'll take this," he said to the man. "There's  
no need to wrap it." He removed his stetson, pulled a note from  
the inside and handed it over.  
  
"I'll just get your change."  
  
While he waited for his change, Fraser slipped the wallet into his pocket  
and inspected some of the other items for sale. There were caps, vests,  
bags and some small items he couldn't identify - black leather strips  
covered in small silver studs with the ends clipped together to form  
a ring. He thought they looked like dog collars, but were way too small  
for a wrist, much less a neck.  
  
The proprietor of the stand handed over his change. "You interested?"  
he asked. "I can do a good price on a matched pair - one for you,  
one for your SO."  
  
"Pair?" he asked, wondering what on earth the man meant.  
  
"Yeah," the big man said, grinning. "The ultimate accessory  
for couples in the 90's - matching cock rings."  
  
Fraser blushed a furious red and dashed away suddenly. Terrified and  
embarrassed by the implications of what the man told him, he kept his  
head down, avoiding the eyes of the people around him. Still looking  
at the ground, he bumped into a woman, almost knocking her to the ground.  
  
"I'm sorry, ma'am," he said, reaching to steady the woman in  
front of him.  
  
The woman ran a hand through her severe haircut and fixed him with a  
stony glare. "Don't call me ma'am," she growled and tucked  
a smaller woman with a similarly severe haircut under her arm before  
stalking away.  
  
"Oh dear," Fraser muttered softly, shaking his head in confusion.  
  
Deciding it was probably time to find Ray, he headed towards the registration  
tent he had seen them disappear into earlier. A voice to his left stopped  
him.  
  
"Constable Fraser! Ben!"  
  
From behind a table laden with piles of t-shirts in all colours and sizes,  
the man he had met at Fair Day and the Mall waved at him. Smiling, he  
made his way through the crowd to the t-shirt stall.  
  
"Hello, Tom," he greeted the handsome blonde man as he drew  
near.  
  
"I'm so glad you could make it, Ben. Is Ray with you?"  
  
"Yes. I believe he's registering for some of the games later.   
I was just on my way to find him."  
  
"Perhaps you'd like to buy a t-shirt on your way?" Tom hinted,  
grinning cheerfully as he indicated the piles of shirts in front of him.  
"The money is for a good cause."  
  
Fraser inspected the shirts. The bore all manner of symbols: rainbow  
flags, pink triangles, red ribbons, lambdas, the now familiar blue and  
pink triangles of bi-pride and a number of other flags and symbols he  
did not recognise.  
  
"Well, Tom, I am happy to contribute to this worthwhile cause, but  
I don't think these shirts are my style ..." he trailed off, embarrassed  
again.  
  
Tom nodded his understanding. "I have something that might be more  
to your taste." He moved to the far end of the table and lifted  
a shirt from atop a small pile. Unfolding it he held it up for Fraser's  
inspection. It bore the legend, 'Straight But Not Narrow'.  
  
The look that passed between the two men filled Fraser with something  
he could not name. All he knew was that he had found acceptance in a  
place where he had not expected it. He felt humbled and proud.  
  
"Thank you, Tom," he said in a voice low with emotion. "It's  
perfect."  
  
Tom tossed the shirt to Fraser, laughing as he did. "No charge,  
Ben. I think you've earned it."  
  
He caught it in one hand. "Thank you, Tom. That's very generous  
of you. I will be honoured to wear this."  
  
Tom blushed, slightly embarrassed by the other man's reaction. "Go  
find your friend."  
  
Ben laughed and waved, then disappeared into the crowd in search of Ray.  
Still clutching his new t-shirt in one hand he looked around, finally  
spotting Ray and Jazz at a hotdog stall.  
  
Suddenly he stopped and looked at the shirt in his left hand. A smile  
spread across his face as he made a hasty detour between two tents towards  
the mens room. He disappeared inside and emerged a moment later wearing  
his new t-shirt and carrying his old golden yellow one in his left hand.  
He smoothed the fabric over his chest, dismissed his concerns about the  
tightness of the garment then marched off to locate Ray once again.  
  
In amongst the crowd again, he looked around for his friend, but was  
quickly waylaid by a pretty, young girl selling raffle tickets.  
  
"Dollar fifty each," she told him, "or four for five dollars."  
  
Remembering Tom's generosity with the t-shirt and noting that this raffle  
was to raise money for the same research foundation, he reached into  
his pocket and pulled out his new wallet.  
  
"Yes, of course." He pulled a ten-dollar bill and handed it  
to the girl. "I'll take eight, please, miss."  
  
"Thanks. It's for a good cause." She took his money and handed  
him the book of raffle tickets and a pen. "Just write your name  
and phone number on these. It'll be drawn at four."  
  
Fraser took the tickets and pen in one hand and stared at the yellow  
t-shirt he held in his other. Thinking quickly, he tucked it into his  
right back pocket and looked around for something to rest on.  
  
"Here," the young girl said, offering her back.  
  
Fraser swallowed. She wore a tiny halter-top that left most of her back  
exposed. She looked at him with impatient eyebrows, so he leaned forward  
and rested the book on her back and began to write, trying desperately  
to keep his blush under control. In a moment of generosity he hastily  
scribbled Ray's name and cellphone number on the tickets and then stepped  
back. Only then did he notice the tattoo on her shoulder blade: a small  
pistol, a Glock if he was not mistaken, with the words 'Dead Men Don't  
Rape' written underneath in perfect copperplate.  
  
When she spun around and took the tickets and pen from his hand, he was  
unable to meet her eyes.  
  
"Thanks, Straight Boy," she said pointing at his t-shirt.  
  
He mumbled something inane in reply. Only after she disappeared into  
the crowd did he realise he had not asked what the prize was.  
  
This was how Ray found him, staring into the crowd in stunned silence.  
  
"Fraser!" Ray cried, slapping a hand onto his shoulder as he  
slid to a halt in front of him. "What's wrong?"  
  
"I just saw ... that is ... a young woman ... Ray, she had the most  
unusual tattoo."  
  
Before Ray could respond, Jazz appeared through the crowd waving them  
towards her.  
  
"C'mon, it's nearly time for the sack race." She looked Fraser  
up and down. "Love the shirt."  
  
Ray noticed it for the first time and grinned, nudging his friend forward.  
"C'mon, Fraser, I entered you in this one."  
  
"You did what?"  
  
"I entered you, now go!" He pushed Fraser through the crowd  
ahead of him.  
  
Fraser took three steps before Ray's panicked voice stopped him. He  
poked the yellow t-shirt tucked into his back pocket.  
  
"Have you been walking around like this?" he demanded, a faint  
smile tugging at his lips.  
  
Fraser frowned. "Yes, Ray. Is something wrong?"  
  
Ray pulled the t-shirt from his pocket and shoved it at Fraser's chest.  
"Do not put that in your right pocket."  
  
"Oh. I'll put it in the other side."  
  
"No. Do not tuck anything yellow into either pocket."  
  
Fraser frowned, not understanding at all.  
  
"Do the words 'golden shower' mean anything to you, Fraser?"  
  
Fraser frowned and shook his head.  
  
Ray rolled his eyes and pulled the shirt from his friend's hand. "Do  
 ***not*** put anything of any colour into any pocket, Fraser."  
  
"But I don't understand."  
  
Shifting his weight from foot to foot in agitation, Ray waved Fraser's  
t-shirt around, trying to find a way to explain without embarrassing  
the other man further.  
  
"Fraser, there's a thing called the Hanky Code." He held the  
t-shirt up. "Different colours mean different ... things ..."  
  
"Things, Ray?"  
  
"Sexual things," Ray hissed, leaning close. "If you put  
something of a certain colour in one pocket it means you like doing that  
'thing' and if it's in the other pocket it means you like having that  
'thing' done to you."  
  
Realisation began to creep into the Mountie's mind. "And yellow  
is one of those 'things'?"  
  
"Yeah, Fraser," Ray growled. "Golden showers. Water  
sports. Get my drift?"  
  
For the third time that day, Fraser blushed a deep hue and nodded, finally  
beginning to understand what the other man told him.  
  
"Good. Now let's get going before we miss the sack race."  
  
Fraser nodded again and rushed off in the direction Jazz had gone. Ray  
chuckled and looked at the t-shirt in his hand, then rolled it into a  
ball and tossed it into a nearby trash can.  
  
At the starting line Jazz had already collected the sacks and waited  
for the two men to join her and the other sack race entrants. She held  
a sack to Ray as he approached and he took it wordlessly.  
  
"Pan's on her way," Jazz told him. "She just went to  
the ladies." She turned to Fraser. "You're with me."  
Without waiting for his reaction she stepped into the sack and hobbled  
to the start with the other competitors.  
  
When he did not follow, she beckoned him with a toss of her head. Confused  
by what was taking place around him, he frowned as he reached her side.  
  
"But you only have one sack."  
  
"Yes, you're supposed to get in this one with me."  
  
His eyes widened and he glanced over his shoulder at Ray. Pan had joined  
him and they were arguing softly about something.  
  
"With you?"  
  
He noticed that all around him couples were doing exactly as Jazz had  
said. To their right two drag queens in outrageous matching pink wigs  
drew a sack over their matching pink dresses. To their left the young  
girl with the dubious tattoo who had sold him the raffle tickets helped  
another girl in leather shorts into her sack. In front them two shirtless  
muscle boys laughed and rubbed suggestively against each other as they  
pulled their sack over their hips. Behind them a large woman with a  
masculine haircut positioned herself behind a small man wearing blush  
and mascara. Now understood the glee in Ray's eyes when he had skipped  
off to register for the day's events.  
  
Jazz pushed a lock of hair from her eyes and spoke. "Look,"  
she said loudly, but patiently. "Just cos I don't want to fuck  
you doesn't mean I won't get in the sack with you."  
  
Hopping up next to them in their own sack, Ray and Pan exploded in laughter,  
guffawing like it was the funniest joke they had ever heard. Jazz raised  
her eyebrows then held the sack out for Fraser to step into. Fraser  
flushed with embarrassment once again.  
  
Suddenly determined to prove to Ray, to Pan, to Jazz and to anyone who  
cared to take note that he was able to handle himself in any situation,  
he lifted his chin, grit his teeth, held his breath and stepped into  
the sack behind Jazz. By the time they were positioned on the starting  
line, Fraser was in control, working out the best way for he and Jazz  
to coordinate their moves.  
  
Fraser and Jazz crossed the finish line in second place, followed by  
the big woman who had seemingly carried her smaller male companion.   
In first place were two men in their forties, who coordinated their moves  
with an ease that suggested they had been together for a long time.   
He saw their easy companionship and teamwork and was suddenly envious,  
acutely aware of his own loneliness.  
  
Ray congratulated Fraser and Jazz, interspersing his compliments with  
complaints to Pan about the damage her high heels had done to his instep.  
Pan tossed her head, told Ray to go fuck himself and stalked off to do  
her show. After thanking Fraser for his part in their place getting,  
Jazz took off to 'check the talent', assuring the two men she would see  
them later.  
  
  
"Having a good time, Fraser?" Ray asked, as he led the other  
man away from the crowd.  
  
Fraser pondered Ray's question for a second, testing the balance of acceptance  
and embarrassment he had felt that day. The acceptance won. The embarrassment  
was no worse than that which he felt on any given day in Chicago. He  
said so.  
  
"That's good." Filled with affection for his friend, Ray draped  
an arm across his shoulders. "Now why don't we go look at the polar  
bears and you can tell me all you know about them." Fraser had  
shared a part of his world and now he would return the favour.  
  
Fraser nodded and the two men happily wandered off towards the animals.  
  
Later, when the two men had toured all of the arctic animal exhibits  
and Fraser had told Ray all he knew and Ray had listened without complaint,  
they headed back to join the throng of people gathered around for the  
next event.  
  
It was the handbag toss.  
  
  
"Time to choose your weapon," Ray told Fraser as he led him  
towards a table surrounded by people.  
  
"Ray, you know I'm not licensed to carry a weapon in Chicago."  
  
Ray rolled his eyes and nudged the other man towards the growing crowd.  
"Not that sort of weapon, Fraser. This is the handbag toss. You  
pick a purse from that pile over there."  
  
Ray indicated the table and both men looked up in time to see a large  
overweight drag queen wrest a large pink clutch purse from the hands  
of a fine boned Hispanic man.  
  
"Oh, I see." Straightening, he cocked his head to one side  
and began to consider the logistics of the game he seemed to have been  
entered in. "So I select a purse and then compete with other ...  
people .. to see who can toss it the furthest?"  
  
Ray grinned and slapped him on the back. "Now you're getting the  
hang of it."  
  
Fraser puffed with pride. "In Tuktoyaktuk I was an accomplished  
discus thrower, although we often had to substitute other ... items ...  
for the discus."  
  
"This game was made for you, then."  
  
Fraser nodded and strode proudly across the grass to select his purse.  
  
"Excuse me ma'am." Fraser tipped his hat and moved into place  
at the table next to a drag queen wearing a wig made of tinsel.  
  
"No you don't, honey," she said, slapping his wrist as he reached  
out to select a purse from the pile on the table. "That beaded  
purse has my name on it." She snatched a small beaded bag and held  
it against her chest.  
  
"Of course." He smiled and reached for a large lime green  
leather clutch purse with a heavy diamante snap. "I was actually  
reaching for this one." He tucked it under his arm and looked up  
at her, towering over him on high heels.  
  
The woman looked him up and down, assessing him in one glance. "Not  
with that hat you don't." She pressed the beaded bag into his hands.  
"You have this. It goes better with your outfit."  
  
Running his tongue over his lips, Fraser frowned and took the purse from  
the woman. "Forgive me if I'm mistaken, ma'am, but I understood  
the object of this particular game was to throw your purse as far as  
possible. If that is, in fact, the case neither you nor I will win with  
this small bag."  
  
Placing the beaded bag back on the table, he selected an old 50's style  
leather purse with a heavy brass catch. Swinging it by its hard leather  
strap he offered it to the drag queen.  
  
"This is a good choice. It's weighty, feel for yourself."  
  
The woman took the bad, holding it between two fingers, testing the weight  
as he suggested, frowning dubiously at him.  
  
"Now if you swing it by the strap like this - may I?"  
  
The woman handed the bag back to him and he demonstrated the tossing  
method.  
  
"Now whilst I can't guarantee you'll win, I can promise you that  
you will have a better chance with this than with your first choice."  
  
Fawning slightly, the woman took the bag from him. "Thank you,  
handsome. If I win, I'll make sure I come thank you."  
  
"That's not necessary. It's my pleasure."  
  
He collected his lime green clutch purse and joined the competitors queue.  
Applying the same concentration he would use when hunting caribou, Fraser  
tested the weight of his purse and waited for his turn.  
  
When his turn came, he stepped proudly up to the start line. A voice  
called to him and he turned, startled, his lime green clutch purse held  
firmly in front of his chest. In the crowd, Jazz held a small camera,  
hastily snapping off a shot as he turned.  
  
It didn't put him off. He came second. The woman he had helped with  
her purse choice was the winner and as promised, she came looking to  
thank him. Ray dragged him off to prepare for the next contest before  
the big woman could plant a wet, red lipstick kiss on him.  
  
"So, Fraser, the next contest is one you may not want to take part  
in."  
  
Still flushed with pride at his two second places, he puffed his chest  
out. "Why ever not, Ray? I'm enjoying myself."  
  
"Ah, look, Fraser, you know ... I don't know."  
  
"Ray, trust me, I'm a Mountie. I can handle myself in any situation."  
He turned in the direction of the registration tent. "Let's go."  
  
Ray shook his head and followed. "Whatever you say, buddy."  
  
Striding confidently up to the stall, Fraser told the man there that  
he would like to enter the next event.  
  
The man looked him up and down, smiling his appreciation. "Sure  
thing." From a box under the table he grabbed a thin white t-shirt  
and handed it to him.  
  
Fraser took the shirt and looked at it quizzically. Beside him, Ray  
laughed.  
  
"Wet t-shirt contest, man, I tried to tell you."  
  
A wave of panic washed over him. He glanced at the man in the registration  
stall, then back at Ray, weighing his options. He had told Ray he could  
handle any situation and now his words would be put to the test. He  
took a deep breath.  
  
"Right," he said. "Lead the way, Ray."  
  
Ray led him off to the judging area. He won.  
  
  
The day continued in the same manner. In between events, Ray and Fraser  
looked around the zoo, chatted to new friends, ate a little, sat on the  
grass enjoying the sun. Both men had an enjoyable time, each pleased  
to be in the company of the other. From time to time Jazz would join  
them, but mostly they were alone, learning more about each other.  
  
When it was time for the final event of the day, the Drag Race, the two  
men found a place on the grass amongst the growing crowd and waited for  
it to begin.  
  
"You're gonna love this, Fraser," Ray told him. "It's  
the best event today."  
  
A track had been laid out in a large figure eight beginning at the foot  
of the stage, heading across the grassed area past a large cage of birds,  
continuing in a loop around the reptile enclosure, back past the other  
side of the bird cage and finally returning to the foot of the stage.  
  
Eight drag queens had entered and waited on the starting line. Pan Am  
was among them, dressed in a tight fitting gold lame gown and matching  
gold stilettos. Fraser wondered how she could walk, much less run, in  
such a tight garment.  
  
The crowd tittered with excitement as the entrants readied themselves.  
Some checked their makeup and hair in small mirrors, some straightened  
and smoothed their frocks and others, like Pan, dropped to the ground  
in a sprinters crouch.  
  
When the starting gun went off, Pan hauled her gown up over hose clad  
knees and took off. She got as far as the birdcage before she had to  
stop and adjust her wig. Whilst she did, a competitor dressed tastefully  
in a tailored lilac suit with matching shoes, bag and hat, strolled casually  
by.  
  
"It's so unlady like to run," she told Pan.  
  
Gesturing with one hand, Pan showed her exactly how unlady-like she was  
prepared to be and took off once again, this time at a much slower pace.  
She was quickly overtaken by a woman in apricot chiffon and matching  
flat slippers then by another wearing a fluffy white wedding gown, complete  
with veil.  
  
Fraser and Ray cheered, Ray calling out encouragement to Pan. Around  
them, the crowd yelled and screamed, each calling out for their friends  
to win.  
  
Rounding the reptile enclosure several of the competitors stopped to  
reapply lipstick and touch up makeup. A competitor dressed in a Playboy  
bunny outfit stopped to straighten the seam of her stockings. The woman  
in the lilac suit strolled calmly by them all.  
  
In the audience, near Ray and Fraser, a group of people chanted loudly  
in unison to the woman in lilac. She waved at them.  
  
By the final leg, Pan was running second. In the lead was a woman in  
a classic little black dress and matching suede pumps, who dashed all  
hopes of winning by stopping suddenly, screaming at a run in her pantyhose.  
Before she could enjoy approaching victory, a woman in a fluorescent  
orange vinyl dress with matching wig overtook Pan. But fate was with  
Pan, because the orange woman was stopped suddenly when the spike heels  
of her orange vinyl thigh high boots sank firmly into the grass.  
  
For a moment Pan was in the lead until her shoes, too, sank in the grass.  
The Playboy bunny was caught the same way. The woman in the wedding  
gown sank too, dropping to the ground bellowing about a sprained ankle.  
The woman in apricot chiffon stopped to help her.  
  
"Oh, Ray, should we help?" Fraser began to rise, but Ray hauled  
him back down.  
  
"It's all an act, they're not really hurt. Part of the show."  
  
The woman in lilac strolled by the pile of women on the grass, tossing  
them a haughty look as she did. Near Fraser and Ray, her friends went  
wild with enthusiasm, screaming out to her, encouraging her to win.  
  
"Oh, Ray, Pan needs help."  
  
"She's fine."  
  
Frustrated by Ray's nonchalance, Fraser frowned as he watched Pan struggle  
to her feet only to sink in the grass again. The woman in lilac approached  
the finish line. He could take it no more. Fraser shot to his feet.  
  
"Pan!" he bellowed his voice cutting across the rumble of the  
crowd. "Take off your shoes."  
  
Pan's heavily mascared eyes swung his way and she frowned in confusion.  
  
He lifted one foot, pointing to his own shoes. "Your shoes, take  
them off."  
  
Finally comprehending, Pan unstrapped the gold sandals and rose steadily  
on stockinged feet. With her shoes clutched in one hand, she hauled  
her dress up with the other and set off for the finish line with renewed  
enthusiasm.  
  
Shocked but pleased by his friend's behaviour, Ray jumped up beside Fraser  
and called out words of encouragement to Pan. When she crossed the finish  
line in first place, nudging aside the woman in lilac, Ray hugged Fraser.  
  
"Well, that was ... invigorating." Fraser cheeks were flushed  
with excitement.  
  
Ray smiled at his friend, warmed by what they had shared. Patting his  
friend's shoulder he said, "C'mon, let me buy you something to eat."  
  
"We must go and congratulate Pan first."  
  
Ray nodded and followed his friend to where the winners had gathered.  
After hugs all round from Pan and Jazz who appeared briefly, then disappeared,  
the two men went in search of food.  
  
  
With a meal of sushi and miso soup purchased from the last of the food  
stalls Fraser and Ray found a table and bench seats away from the crowd.  
They ate silently, each man content to enjoy the companionship. It had  
been a good day.  
  
"You know what this is about for me, don't you, Fraser?" Ray  
said after a while, gesturing towards the thinning crowd and the remaining  
stalls.  
  
Fraser nodded. "At the Fair Day - I saw you - with a man."  
  
Ray smiled and nodded, his gaze fixed on his food. "Danny. Danny  
Eaglesmith." He lifted his eyes and looked at his friend. "He  
was ... the first guy... you know..."  
  
Fraser nodded again.  
  
Ray gazed out across the zoo park, watching as stall holders packed their  
goods away while other people stood around in small groups laughing their  
farewells in the summer evening air.  
  
"We met at a group thing when I was 17, one of those meetings where  
you can go if you're a bit confused." He scrubbed a hand through  
his hair and continued. "I was confused. I had these ... feelings."  
His eyes misted over and his voice grew soft. "And there was Stella.  
There was always Stella."  
  
Fraser nodded again. He knew first hand his friend's feelings for his  
former wife.  
  
"Anyway, I met Danny and we ... well I guess you could say we fell  
in love. But then this thing with Stella got in the way ... and I went  
back to her." He rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his  
head, staring into the grass. "I must've hurt Danny, but he never  
said. He just let me go. Then a month later I came back. Then I went  
again. It went on like that for two years. He let me come when I needed  
to come and go when I needed to go."  
  
"He must have loved you a great deal."  
  
Ray tilted his head and regarded his friend with warm eyes. "Yeah,  
he did."  
  
"Stella?"  
  
"She never knew. No one knew. It was like I had two lives."  
  
"And now?"  
  
Ray rubbed both hands over his face and then flung out his arms, stretching  
until his joints popped.  
  
"And now? Jeez, that's a tough one. But at least now I'm smart  
enough to know it's all over with Stella."  
  
"And Danny?"  
  
Ray shook his head. "Nah. He met someone - Greg - they were together  
for seven years. Greg died last year, you know."  
  
Fraser nodded again. He had witnessed Ray's generous donations to AIDS  
research.  
  
"Have you decided .... " Fraser blushed. "I mean ..."  
  
Ray laughed gently. "You mean am I gay or straight?"  
  
Fraser blushed again and shrugged.  
  
Ray laughed again and gestured to his bi-pride t-shirt. "Who knows  
Fraser, I might fall in love with a guy, I might fall in love with a  
woman. Does it matter?"  
  
Fraser shrugged and smiled at his friend. "No, Ray. It doesn't  
matter."  
  
The two men held each other's gaze until the moment passed.  
  
"What about you, Fraser?"  
  
Fraser stared at his hands and his voice took on a faraway quality.   
"There was a woman once ...."  
  
Ray grinned cheekily. "Only a woman?"  
  
Fraser looked up and met his friend's laughing eyes. "Only a woman,"  
he confirmed.  
  
Ray laughed and reached across the table, gripping his friend's hand.  
"Like you said, Fraser. It doesn't matter."  
  
"As long as it's about love and respect."  
  
Ray nodded his agreement. "As long as it's about love and respect."  
  
  
Comments welcome at  
  



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